


Shades of Black

by Skeren



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: M/M, body painting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-15
Updated: 2016-01-15
Packaged: 2018-05-14 04:53:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5730211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skeren/pseuds/Skeren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He knew he wasn't convincing him, but he wanted to try.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shades of Black

**Author's Note:**

> Written October of 2009

He had yet to meet anyone who had paler skin than he did. It didn’t used to be that way, before Hojo, but that had changed many years ago, and it was one thing he didn’t mourn. The demons had given him that at least, subtle perfections that he’d never quite managed when he’d just been human.

But in the matter of skin, he was paler still than even the wraith of a man sprawled under him on his bed, watching him with feline eyes that had belonged to someone else first, but that he couldn’t begrudge him having. Not if he managed to make this mean something to him.

Loyalty was something hard to sway as he well knew, and that was what he was trying to accomplish. He was trying to get across that there wasn’t only his brothers to go back to, there was him as well. There was a life if they would all just _stop_ this painfully futile quest that Kadaj had set the three of them on.

He didn’t think Yazoo would listen, but if any of them would take his message, his _offering_ , it would be Yazoo. There was little hope, but he wanted to try. He’d already turned them away from just killing the two fool young Turks, perhaps he could do better?

Shaking his head, he dismissed the thoughts, aware the man was reading him as he stayed still above him, brush poised in his hand.

“I know you’re willing to do horrible things, if you need to.” He finally set the brush to his skin, starting a careful pattern from his shoulder. “Things I’m not sure you would mind doing.”

Yazoo just smiled slightly then, lazy from earlier activities, and shook his head slowly, not wanting to interrupt the slow sweep of black ink. “I’m willing to do what I have to Vincent. You understand that, don’t you?”

“You don’t need to do some of the things I know he’s planned. None of you _need_ to find what you’ve been searching for, do you?” He moved his twisted hand, pressing it to his shoulder to still him when he would have moved. “You know how I feel on this.”

There was another few passes of a brush before Yazoo relaxed again, shaking his head. “And you know how I do. You can’t change this.”

Vincent did a long sweep that took him to the man’s hip, curling the pattern into a tight spiral there. “I know it could kill you.”

“Then I’ll die.”

“That doesn’t matter to you?”

“Did it matter to you?”

“No.”

“Then why should it matter to me now?”

Small lines of Wutian script patterned up in intricate designs, saying things he’d never speak out loud to this man. He knew he could read them, didn’t care. “It matters to me, for you.”

“I know. I won’t forget you.”

“I wish there wasn’t the need to say things like that.” He swept the renewed brush up over his heart, started a sigil of protection there. 

“You know how much use wishes are.”

“True.”

“I’m leaving in the morning.”

“I know.” The brush swept down, then moved a last place of skin, adding his personal mark, not his name, just something that meant him.

“I’ll come back, if we can.”

He lifted the brush and met his eyes. Then he turned away to put away the ink, aware the man wouldn’t wash it away until well after it stained, if he had the chance at all. “I won’t say goodbye.”

The silver haired man leaned up and brushed his lips over Vincent’s, eyes knowing. “Then neither will I.”

Not saying it didn’t make it less of a goodbye.

They both knew that though.


End file.
